Super Sons vs Hashtag and AutoCorrect
by FlimFlam3
Summary: Damian and Jon must adapt to their new school, new secret lair, how to juggle secret identities, all that while fighting new enemies and having to finish homework before dinner.
1. Chapter 1

**1 - The author does not owns nor has any claims over Super Sons, Robin, Superboy, its characters or situations. Tale for entertainment purposes only**

 **2 - Due to the response over my other take on Supersons, I will try my hand at the kids once more. Thanks a lot for all the readers,**

* * *

..oOo..

* * *

drkshdowcr ckr666 – hey ASL?

smartgirlAC – you meant "I am Norman Cobb, nephew of Signalman"?

Norman's first impulse as to turn off the computer, after reading such answer. The second was to call this "Smart Girl AC" to a private talk. If she was a better hacker than himself, he could learn some tricks. Otherwise, he could try and find more about her. They got to a private screen.

drkshdowcr ckr666 – u got me. U are? 

smartgirlAC – don't need to waste your time trying to hack me. My name is Lenore O'Csaif. We need to talk.

drkshdowcr ckr666 – why?

The answer was an address, some a burger joint on a busy Metropolis street. This Lenore discovered even the city he was living, it seems.

A quick search discovered that, yes, there is a Lenore O'Csaif living in Metropolis, studying at the snotty West-Reeve Private School. At least, Norman learned he could save the trouble of renting a suit, combing his hair in a conservative way, wearing heavy frames in order to look older. She was about his age. He threw the conservative glasses on the table, got his usual pair, when a reflex on the lens called his attention.

He went to search again on the computer and smiled. He got that girl.

* * *

Norman arrived 15 minutes early. He wanted to set up the scene, be seated, drinking some coffee in small gulps, throwing everything he learned about her, acting superior, like a movie.

He entered the salon, only to find Lenore already there, reading a book and lazily nibbling on a French fry. In the table, two soft drinks. He decided to go on, anyhow.

"So… Lenny Fiasco? The Eraser?"

"As I call him, 'dad'. Took you how long to read my name backwards?" She gestured for him to seat.

"It was due to him that you study in that private school?"

She nodded.

"He was quite good at erasing money trail and transactions."

"Oh, allow me to say I am sorr…"

"No, no, 'was' because banks and banking laws evolved, he did not."

A brief silence follows.

"So… what do you want?"

"The same every teenager wants."

"The latest JoyBox with Warrior's Call 3?"

"What we wanted since the world exists, Norman."

The boy thought for a while.

"To be better than our parents?"

"Than the previous generation, yes. And we can do it."

Norman got up.

"I am not interested in playing third-rate villain. I can just wait a few years, and get a job at a start-up and…"

"Do you mean 'I don't want tons of money'? How many kids you know with this same technology company dream? You are a decent hacker, Norman. Not the best, but an adroit one. And I, I am a girl with a plan. One that will make both of us rich."

He sat again, and made the hashtag symbol with his fingers.

"Hashtag intrigued. Tell me more."

She raised her soda

"To the biggest heist in recent Metropolis history and to the legacy of Signalman and The Eraser becoming 'do you mean Hashtag and AutoCorrect old folks?'."

"I think I am starting to like your way of thinking, dear AutoCorrect."

* * *

"This is not fair, Damian."

The son of Batman raised his eyes from his homework and smirked at Jonathan Kent.

"You failed the test, you clean the Fortress."

"It was supposed to be a Spanish test, and…"

Damian shook his head.

"If you remember, I used the phrase 'language spoken in Spain'. Aranese qualifies."

"Our school does not even have a course of this 'Aranese'. I bet most teachers never heard of it."

"Irrelevant."

"The whole purpose was for you to help me with my Span…enough. I clean my part, you do yours."

"Now are you convinced this hide-out was a bad idea?"

"Are you kidding? This is the best thing ever. I am even saving for a foosball table. It will go right…"

"We would be better off with more exercise and tactical equipment."

"Admit, you like it down here."

The young Wayne thought for a while.

"I can see fish. I like animals."

"You even called it 'Fortress', Damian."

"That's because you keep saying this stupid name again and ag.."

An alarm was heard from the computer.

"That's not the alarm from the Justice League."

"No, it's from one of my investigations, Jon. Someone is scamming clueless rich folks for a week or two now."

"Isn't this kind of thing more suitable for your dad? Or even my mom, she would love to expose this on the paper."

"Not when it's done at West-Reeve."

"Our school?"

* * *

 **Next: Investigation and Detention.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - investigation and detention**

 **...o.O.o...**

* * *

Damian plan was simple. The hardest part was to find an excuse to make Jon a likeable victim.

"Your folks received a bribe from politicians."

"I will not say anything bad about them. How about we, huh, found oil on our farm?"

"Ludicrous. A simple internet search would expose the lie."

"We got rich on cryptocurrency."

"That's part of the scam we're trying to bust. You don't want to sound an expert on the field. Now, some luck on an illegal casino may do the trick."

"Damian, stop trying to badmouth my parents." He sighed "How about a simple inheritance?"

"Lacks imagination. Not so common in the real world." The son of Batman made a pause "But may work. Here we are."

Jon did not understand at first, It looked like a small neighborhood market. Racks with magazines. Some candy bars. Three soft drink fridges in the back.

And then Damian moved one of those fridges, revealing a stairway going down.

"What…?"

Going down, Jon Kent found himself on a large saloon, walls filled with all kind of sneakers.

"Is this… a shoe store?"

"Specialized in all kind of tennis shoes you don't find in the common places. Limited editions. Obscure brands. Signed ones. Prototypes." Damian grabbed a green and purple one. "What's your size again?"

* * *

Half hour later, inside the Fortress of Attitude, Jon was still not able to recover from the shock, holding the bag with greatest care. He did not dare to open it and the box inside, as if a mere look would devalue the eyesore within.

"Y-you just spent 10 thousand on a sneaker."

"No, 8,199 plus taxes. But that's what clueless rich kids wear. Now, let's go through the plan once again…"

"Damian, you can't blow 10 thousand on a… a… prop for a plan."

"How much do you think each batarang costs, simpleton? Money is simply another way to reach my objectives. Now, the plan…"

* * *

 **Next morning.**

"Try to walk proudly, hayseed. Chin up! Fill up your chest."

The voice came from a communicator hidden on Jon's ear. Superhearing is something he still needs to master, and Damian did not want to take any chances. Jon tried, but could not took his eyes from the West-Reeve school floor. Bubble gum. Wet areas. Other kids. He wanted to be able to return or resell the ugly things on his feet after the mission, so Damien will not lose that money.

He wondered again how the son of Batman knew about this loophole. They entered the school the same day, but he would never guess that, while uniforms are enforced, the school staff is more forgiving when it comes to footwear. Smirking, Jon realized he just answered his own question. Damian knows because son of Batman. But, truth be told, it seems more kids came to talk to him than other days. Some he never met before. If things continue that way, he may even be invited to the rich kids' table at lunchtime.

As much as Damian wanted to keep following Jon, he made a detour and headed to the cafeteria. He usually spends the minutes before the first class at the library, but today he wanted to hear the kids.

The plan worked. Here and there, Jon's name was mentioned. He tried to catalogue every one interested on him. Tavares, Lidia; daughter of a chemistry teacher; on scholarship; life goal seems to be date rich guys; not likely. Morris, Vitantonio; father is the Falcone family man in Metropolis; not likely, but worth keep an eye on. O'csaif, Lenore; his classmate; daughter of – she turned off her phone and is coming to him.

"Good morning, Damian."

"Lenore."

"Do you know what happened to your friend? He seems… different today."

It's time for Alfred Pennyworth Acting School to show its value, Damian thought.

"My friend?"

"The country kid, Jonathan. His folks work at the Daily Planet, I think."

"Oh, him. Not my friend, our fathers just know each other. I didn't see him today."

"I see. Too bad."

"What do you mean, different?"

"I don't know. More… open. Sympathetic, I guess."

Damian shrugged.

"I think he grew up on a farm. Maybe he just now finished adjusting to city and school?"

"Maybe." A buzz was heard in every corner of the school "That's our call. It's mr. Barby and Geography now. At least he is funny."

"Best beginning of the day of the week."

"So, you really don't know nothing about Jonathan…?"

* * *

"Hey, Kenny! I mean, Kent."

That was a call Jon was not expecting during lunch time. Not one of the rich kids, probably not even the scammers. It was one of the school bullies, Ricky.

"You know I always considered you my pal, right?" he asked, passing an arm around Jon's neck, a mix of hug and menacing hold.

"Huh… sure?"

"Say, I have this party to go, and I need to impress some girl. So, how about you lend me those shoes, huh?" and tightened his arm around Jon's neck.

Jon did not know what to do. He need to keep the meek secret identity, but Ricky could broke his hand trying to punch him. If he could talk his way out of…

His thoughts were interrupt by a scream by Ricky.

"Oh, sorry" said Damian "I just dropped my hot soup over you."

"You are dead, Wayne."

Damian just shrugged and watched the fist come to meet him. The challenge was to move just enough for it to hit a place it would not hurt much, and not gave the impression he knew what he was doing. And again. Damian read Ricky's movements. He could counter-attack seven different ways without killing him. He choose one of the least effectives. Thankfully, he decided to waste some hours every week joining the judo club.

When the monitors arrived to deal with the mess, Ricky was already in the floor. Damian was asking himself if he was awkward enough doing the movement.

And it seemed he would have enough time to think about it on detention.

* * *

It was part of their secret identity not being seen in school together. So, they met on a busy popular mall almost one hour away from West-Reeve. The richest kids would never get there, and the more humble students would not have the money or time to get that far often.

Norman opened a huge smile and raised his soft drink can, waiting for a toast.

"I found two or three obituaries about a relative of the Kents on some newspapers and funerary earlier this week. And guess what? Mrs. Lois Lane Kent just started to follow two inheritance lawyers on Facebook."

The girl in front of him hesitate a bit.

"Still, they are reporters. Used to ask questions."

"And their son is a hillbilly."

"Right. We have the next target of Hashtag and AutoCorrect. But let's be careful. His grades?"

"Ah, generally good, except…"

* * *

It was part of their secret identity not being seen in school together. So, when Damian entered the Fortress carrying a pizza, he could swear he could see fumes leaving Jon's ears, and his despair over a book.

"People say the most difficult language to learn is the third one, but I would never imagine it would be that hard."

"Sorry to break it to you, but your second language is kryptonian. I doubt it has some use in making parallels to earth ones. My third one was French, and I did not find it that difficult."

He dropped the pizza on the table near

"Be careful, Damian!"

He noticed Jon's new pair of shoes, a brush near them, signaling it was used to carefully clean the soles. The young Kent pick them um and deposited them with care on the original box.

"I still want to sell them after all that. Do you know we can have a professional foosball table for a grand?"

"Never mind, I think the ruse was a success. Expect to be contacted by the scammers tomorrow."

"I still do not believe. People wanting to talk to me, be my friend, threatening me, all because of a pair of shoes?"

"Not to mention putting me on detention. Luckily father knows It's all about a case." He went to the whiteboard. "Tell me your suspects."

"Ricky."

"Try again, hayseed."

Next morning, Ricky and three minion circled Damian before he entered the school. He smiled and cracked his knuckles. That would be good.

* * *

 **Sorry it took that long for the chapter. Being busy, will try to speed things up. Again, thanks a lot for your readership.**


	3. Chapter 3

**1 – The author does not own nor has any claims over Super Sons, Robin, Superboy or any of its elements. Tale for entertainment only.**

 **2 – Opinions more than welcome, specially since my "Adventures of Nooroo and Red Admiral" is tanking. Well, you can't get everything right, but**

 **3 – This makes your readership here even more important to me. Thanks a lot!**

* * *

..o..O..o..

* * *

Damian was surrounded by four bullies from his school. He would prefer to be more further away from it, one of then still can try to run for the safety of its gates, or someone could see it. He would have to balance this right. Ricky will probably send the biggest, fattest kid first. No problem. A punch in the throat would make him cry and just eating soup and ice-cream for days. He could use the momentum to kick Ricky on the head, but that would be too fast and, at that time, the other two would scat. No, he should try some quick punches to bring Ricky and other two down and then really hurt those cowards…

It was then one of their backpacks burst into fire. The bullies jumped in fear, asking what was happening

Damian facepalmed in frustration. He refused to look up, where Jon would obviously be, with his eyes blazing red. Clenching his teeth, he muttered.

"I got this, hayseed. Get out of here before they see you."

With a sigh, he realized any normal kid would use this moment to escape. But he did not run. Grabbing his things, he simply walked in direction of the school. Slowly. Come on, he thought, it's just fire, I am here, my back to you, come on, come on, Ricky, it's an easy target.

Next, he felt the wind. Not directed at him, but still he felt some of it. He could bet the bullies are being knocked down by the gush of air.

And he saw. Everyone saw. Superboy, in full uniform, lowering himself to about a meter off the ground. Well, almost full uniform.

"Is everything ok, kid?" He asked to Damian. The little Wayne had to swallow all his pride to answer a

"*tt* Yes. Thank you." Full of second and third meanings, before continuing to walk mumbling "Fun-spoiler. Showoff. Reckless alien."

Jon turned his attention to the bullies.

"Now, about you…" but they already ran away.

Jon smiled and flew away, while a frustrated Jon walked pass the curious eyes of dozens of students.

* * *

Now, even Damien knew a place to meet Jon was a must in the new school. So, during lunchtime both escaped to a deposit room even some school staff did not know about. Jon was beaming with pride.

"I won without practically moving a muscle. Just using my voice, like mr. Wayne. That was so cool. That was…"

"Immature Meta Boxing Frogs socks. Nice heroic statement, hayseed."

"Oh." Jon opened a shy smile and rubbed the back of his neck. "I forgot to hide an extra par of shoes with my uniform, and Superboy could not appear with the expensive ones. Heheheh."

"Hmpf."

"Aaaand I was contacted." He showed a note "It was on my locker"

"Did you heard or saw anything?"

"I think they put it in when I was saving you."

"Great. Fantastic." He snatched the item from Jon's hand.

"I already checked it with my supervision. It is clean. They handled it with gloves, or something."

"*tt* 'Tomorrow, the cryptocurrency Lutherium will go up. We know that the same way we can make your Spanish grade to go up. If interested, drop your answer along 500 dollars in 50's and 20's Friday morning at…'. Two days from now. They want you to be able to check the market."

"I thought they were after big money."

"500 is a bait to fish out the gullible. Like a poker game, you first make a small bet to attract the other players, after that you go raising the value."

"Oh, I see."

"Now, we must…"

* * *

"…be careful, since Superboy is around."

Somewhere around the 1970's, a 2nd level of basement was planned at West-Reeves to accommodate the ever-growing need for parking spots. Work started until someone looked at the cost and noticed that, for half of the basement cost, they could buy some land across the street and build the parking lot there. So the centenary school was left with a hole and few meters of space under the basement, that few people know about.

Lenore was one of those people. Norman turned the flashlight at her direction, puzzled.

"You seem to be…almost happy."

"Sure. This scheme is making us rich, but dealing with Superboy is stuff of legends. Furthermore, I wanted to try these."

Norman looked at the uniforms on her hand. Both black, with a hashtag symbol inside a magnifying glass on both shoulders, Just apart for the details on the shoes, soles, shoulder symbol, domino masks and gloves, one white, other baby blue. She threw this last one to him.

"Huh…"

"We want to do this right. We want to be Hashtag and AutoCorrect."

"In that case, hashtag trouble. Deep trouble."

"Do you mean 'Norman Cobb is chickened'?"

"I mean 'Norman Cobb does not want to spend years on a reformatory'." He looked at the clothing on his hand. "It's heavy."

"Kevlar in some places, liquid armor over our main vital organs. Form and Function."

"And I will give you they look cool."

"Thank you. Try it on."

Norman blushed a little

"Huh… hashtag not-on-first-date?"

"Ow, for the love of…" she turned her back to him. Norman sighed in relieve and started to change clothes.

"Where did you got those, after all?"

"Dad still has contacts with some important Gotham underworld people, like mr. Cobblepot. He put me in contact with this very specific tailor."

But Norman brain stopped working after hearing "mr. Cobblepot".

"Y-you… you…"

"Do I mean: 'The Penguin'? Yes, I do." She went behind a column and started to change, too, while he felt the world spun.

"I am going to be sick."

"Welcome to the point of no return, Hashtag."

"Ok, tell me. With those uniforms, and profiting with at most only half of the letters we sent, how much will we make?

* * *

"How can the scammer know about market fluctuation and my grades?" Jon asked Damian

"The school system is not hard to invade. I did it even without calling on Drake."

"And the market?"

"I have a hypothesis. They don't need to."

"Huh?"

"Lunchtime's over. Go back to your classes. See you in the fortress."

* * *

 **Later that night.**

The car crossed Metropolis' streets slowly.

"Driving underage. I don't like it, I don't like it, Police will stop us, we are wearing villain uniforms, hashtag madness!"

The girl behind the wheel chuckled. "Did you prefer calling an Uber, dressed like that? Norman, Hashtag, relax. I am following every law imaginable. Aaand we're here. The building of Kents' apartment." She parked the car.

Biting his lip, Hashtag opened his special laptop, as AutoCorrect tried to calm him down.

"It could not be simpler. We break in the apartment, find another evidence we know anything we want to know and keep the blackmailing."

"huh…"

"Lois Kent is out of town, working on some story. And we will neutralize Clark."

"… Jon."

"Do you mean 'really? Jon? Really?'?"

He lowered his head. "Garage door open. Cameras frozen. Hashtag 10 minutes."

"Let's move!"

Moving fast, they entered the garage, and AutoCorrect put some device under the Kents' car. Both rushed to the stairs and started climbing. "The blue print we hacked from the security company was right, no camera in the stairs."

"Good, Hashtag, you can give them back the cameras and the garage."

He did so, and they kept going up.

"Here's Kent's floor. Time?"

"Minus three and half minutes."

"Do you mean 'next time, we'll bring a deck of cards'?"

"I am going to be sick."

"Relax, Norman. We got this."

"T-minus two minutes, fifty. If the police catch us…"

"Right. Let me show you how to use the cyanide shot on our uniforms."

He almost shouted

"WH…what?"

Only then he noticed she was making an effort not to burst out laughing.

"Hashtag veeeery funny, frowning face."

"Think we're probably already better than our uncle an father."

"Forty seconds."

"Come on…" AutoCorrect finally felt some anxiety.

"Ten seconds."

"Right, this is it."

Nobody was paying attention to the garage cameras, so they missed the small flash under Kents' car.

But they heard the alarm going off. The building caretaker quickly phoned Clark Kent, to check his car and allow the first floor people to go back to sleep.

As AutoCorrect expected, in less than a minute, a worried Clark, closing his robe, was calling the elevator. As he entered, a sleepy Jon closed the door.

"Norman, it's time for the top-notch technology on blocking elevators."

He raised an eyebrow, but put the small wooden wedge under the elevator door. AutoCorrect kept talking.

"Let's give Jon some seconds to go back to bed.. wait… wait…Right, let's move."

A very fast lockpicking later, Hashtag and AutoCorrect were inside Clark Kent's apartment.

* * *

 **Thanks for your readership. Next, the final chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

**The author does not own or has any claims over Super Sons, its characters or elements. Tale for entertainment only.**

 **Sorry for the tardiness. On with the show**

...o.O.o...

Things to Know, you know?

...o.O.o...

After using his senses to make sure the car was safe, Clark turned off the alarm. It could be just a malfunction, but something called his attention. Under it, a half-destroyed candy wrap. He knows the monthly bill for cleaning and conservation of the building, so it should not be there. Sure, someone could have thrown it in the past 20 minutes, he could have picked up in the streets, still…

He examined it. Super smell detected different chemistry compounds, and enhanced vision identified the remaining of electronic components. Probably a device made to generate an electric pulse to set the alarm, and then disintegrate almost… He quickly realized it was made to take him out of home "JON!" was the only thing he could think, as he used super speed to take his hidden uniform out of the car, change and fly to save his son.

* * *

"Why in the world would a reporter use a rolodex at this time and age?" AutoCorrect whispered, taking photo after photo of the pages.

"Hashtag safety. It's the only way to be 100% sure they will not be hacked."

Just outside his parents' home office, Jon, pressed against the wall, did not know what to do. He could not appear as Superboy. He frantically texted Damien, hoping he could get there in time. Meanwhile, Hashtag connected his computer to Kents'.

"Weak password. Seven characters, k-r-y… hashtag cold, or it is me?"

"Now that you mentioned…" AutoCorrect saw, in horror, an ice wall being formed, blocking the open door. "Darn it, too early!" She saw her friend went pale behind the mask. "Don't you dare fainting now. Deep breaths, deep breaths!"

AutoCorrect got a rope and hook from her uniform and opened the window.

"It's too short! We're at the ninth floor, we will not make it to the street."

"Do you mean 'it's long enough to get us to the seventh'? That's all we need, hold on, Hashtag!"

They launched themselves through the window, using the momentum to smash the window of an apartment two floors down.

* * *

Superman was watching the escape, hugging his son tightly on his arms.

"I am ok, dad, I promise."

"Sshhh, let me play the overprotective parent for a while. Those invaders… they are kids."

"Another reason for me to go after them. Damien should be here in a…"

"No. You got them now, you will not learn anything. If they know the secret, or work for someone else. We wait and follow."

"Aw…"

"But I must say, good work with the ice breath, son. Very quick thinking. Well done."

"Thanks, dad!"

* * *

Hashtag and AutoCorrect strived to get on their feet after crashing through the window, adrenaline pumping on their bodies, mixed with fear, all made worst by the resident of the apartment screaming non-stop

"Sorry, ma'am, coming through, ma'am."

Both teens blushed passing her

"Buy decent pajamas, please. Hashtag blushing face!"

Storming through the door, they rushed down the stairs.

"We're doomed. We're doomed. I can't say how doomed…"

"Run more, complain less. And freeze their cameras again."

They stopped just shy of the street floor, getting the bag they left behind with two hoodies as desguise.

"Superboy can see us. He…"

"Chill, Hashtag. Let's wait."

Hashtag paid close attention at was happening at the other side.

"All they have is us breaking into an apartment. Two, if Kent had the presence to call the police, too. Let's be real. This is a huge city. The police, worry about someone breaking into an apartment? They will send, what? One cop car after more than half an hour? And for Superboy, we have plan 'K'."

"I wish this 'K' was from kryptonite."

"I think the lobby is empty. The caretaker must be helping the lady of the seventh. Walk slowly."

They crossed the lobby, opened the door and gained the streets.

"Returning cameras, now. Plan 'K'?"

"Plan 'K'."

He pressed a button on a remote control activating a small device inside their rented car fuel tank. Nothing extra advanced, a bit more than a lighter activated by remote control. More than enough to cause a distraction with a

"'Kabloom'. Not 'kriptonite', but will do"

Turning a corner, they took out the hoodies, putting them inside out, revealing a different colour.

"If we reach the subway while he is busy, we'll be good."

"If!"

"Hashtag, stop being so…"

"AutoCorrect… I did not say that."

Looking up, they saw Robin jumping out of a roof.

"Lenore Fiasco, I believe?"

"Do you mean 'AutoCorrect'? And you are far away from your nest, birdie."

Robin smirked, getting his staff ready.

"This can go the hard way or… the harder way."

"You… you don't have anything against us." Tried Hashtag, using the calm that only appears when one is beyond panic. "So, please, move away."

"Destruction of propriety, for starts. And, I don't know why, but people like you two usually are very open with me" said him, cracking his knuckles.

And in the next moment, he was gone.

"What?"

"Question less, run more." Both dashed to the subway.

* * *

Robin was strafing Superman with his eyes, while the adult hero held him after removing him form the scene with super-speed.

"Hands off me! You are ruining everything!"

"Dad thinks they may be a part of something bigger, Damian."

"If they were, I would have… I don't have to tell Clark anything. My case. My investigation."

Jon sighed

"Our investigation, Damian."

"Fine. The two of us. No need for back up."

"It is needed when it involves our family, Damien." Superman made a pause "But if you're in the case already, let's say you two work for me now. Five days to get to the bottom of it. No answers, I assume. The slightest danger to my family, I assume. Clear?"

"Clark, this is an utter…"

"Yes, dad, thanks!" beamed Superboy.

"Right, kids, now bed and…"

"If we're working for you, Superman, we will work. Jon, let's go to the Fortress."

Jon quickly looked at his dad, and at Damian, and back to his dad, none of their faces moving a muscle.

"Huh… would it help treating this as a sleep-over, dad?"

"This night for a 9 o'clock curfew for the rest of the month."

"Not a fair deal. Two nights, and you will not need to explain Bruce why I was without the brake for my excesses." Who also is my meat shield, added Damien mentally.

Jon opened a large smile "Pleeeeeeee-ase?"

"You two are more trouble than it is worth." Clark smiled "Fine."

* * *

At the Fortress of Attitude, Damian was mumbling non-stop.

"You knew they are not after the S, they are after gullible rich kids. Why you didn't tell superdad that?"

"Damian, we can't be sure. They messed with our computer and…"

"Yeah, yeah. Start telling me everything you know."

"Well, everything started when Krypton core imploded due…"

"I am not in the mood, Jon. Skip it to this night!"

"You're never in the mood. The car alarm went off and…"

After Jon told him everything and he questioned some more, Damien wrote something on a paper and gave it to Jon "Lenore 'O'Csaif' Fiasco address. Stay alert for any suspect attitude from her. Report when you're sure she's asleep. It should not take long, she has classes early in the morning."

" **WE** have classes early in the morning."

"*tt*"

"And the boy?"

"I have a few suspects. I will work on that while you're out."

* * *

"Madness. We got caught, and escaped." Hashtag was pacing back and forth.

"I wish I knew how, Norman. We'll have to be extra cautious next. If police connects the note with the break-in, they surely will use Jon Kent as a bait. We must plan for that."

"At least for a while, we should put the scheme on a halt."

"Or at least change locals. One of us could join elite clubs that teach kids. Tennis, golf, jockey club,…" she was splashing water on her face.

"I will make a list of those." Said Hashtag, sitting on the bed and removing his shoe.

Then the adrenaline went down on both and they realized what they were doing. He was sitting on her bed removing a shoe, and she had tied the top part of her uniform on her waist and was talking to him wearing a sports bra and holding a towel in one hand.

They froze for a moment, blushing a lot.

"Yes, I asked for a Kevlar layer on this. You can stop looking."

"Oh… my… I… sorry… I… home…go home…hashtag confused… sorry…"

And dashed away

"Norman?"

"Yes?"

"Your shoe. Let's meet tomorrow. We need to plan a lot."

From a block away, Jon wondered if that mess of a talk counted as "suspect" for Damian. But he wrote a name down. "Norman".

* * *

"Norman." Damian quickly stroke some keys on the computer "There's four Normans at our school, but the height and photos on their files hardly match the guy I saw. I will have to try a broader…"

He looked for Jon, just to find him napping on the press bench.

"I think you better go home, hayseed. I will have a plan for you tomorrow morning."

* * *

At a bus going to West-Reeve, Lenore and Norman talked.

"… so, this is my escape plan if the police or something come looking for me today. But I doubt that will happen."

"They will look for evidences and my identity. Hashtag behind bars."

"We will throw then out of balance. One way or another, Jon will have the money for us. So, this is the plan…"

After some minutes, Lenore was ready to step down the bus.

"Are you sure you will be all right?"

"Our plans are sound. Don't worry."

"But I do. We're partners."

"Thanks, Norman. Just do your part, we'll be fine."

"Hashtag bul…"

"Norman! Have faith."

* * *

Leaving the transport tube, Damian and Jon talked.

"You faked my dad's signature."

"Not me. It's a small machine we have at the cave. Very handy."

"Missing the point, Damian."

"Let's go over the plan again."

"I act scared, but not tell anyone what happen, be sure to be seeing to lots of people, in special Lenore, after two classes I show the face note where 'dad' asks me to meet him to talk with the police what happened. Instead, I will go watch this Norman Cobb. Meanwhile, you investigate Lenore."

"In a nutshell, yes. A simple and good plan."

"Good? I am already under curfew, when mom and dad find out, I will…"

"Jon. Have faith!"

* * *

After class, Jon met Damian.

"The guy spends most of his day at the computer."

"… and?"

"He left home for two hours. Went to the gym. After that, to the fast food at the corner and back home, to the computer."

"What he did?"

"At the fast food? Ate. Salad and French Fries."

"What he did at the gym? Any martial art training?"

"Damian, I don't have many excuses to enter a gym alone at my age."

"He is just a year or so older than me. They must have younger age classes. Lenore asked about you. A lot. And Lutheriom did went up."

"Now you are going to tell me how they do that?"

Damian smirked.

"They don't do a thing."

"What?"

"Metropolis is full of rich families. They can very well miss half of them."

"Miss half? What do you mean?"

"Probability, hayseed. You say to someone Lutheriom will go up. If it goes down, they will dismiss you as a weirdo. If indeed it goes up, well, you're a guy in the inside, who can indeed do what you say you can do."

"I see. Clever."

"Plus, if the guy contacted is stupid enough, he will buy the coin, and ask people he know to buy it, too. With enough people doing that… guess what happens to the price."

"It… goes up?"

"Bravo. School is working. So, Superdad is very likely wrong. It's indeed a two persons scheme."

"Now what?"

"Now, tomorrow you will go to the meeting place with the money."

"They will expect a entrapment."

"Yes. But they don't know we know they are expecting things to go wrong."

* * *

Norman smiled. That chat has the best security systems available. If, somehow, someone managed to hack it, would discover every word on the messages was typed from a different city in the world.

Hashtag: Still think it would be better to call it off.

AutoCorrect: Never. This is better than money, this is our card to relevance. Think how many people will want to hire us.

Hashtag: You know they will set an entrapment, right?

AutoCorrect: Yes, but they think we don't know they know we know it's a trap. And we know.

Hashtag: Come again?

* * *

"On second thought, they know Superboy knows so they must know we are creating a trap over a trap…"

"Say, Jon, haven't you got a curfew to follow? We have a full day tomorrow."

"I know."

* * *

 **Right, so… There's one more chapter to go. Sorry about that.**

 **And thanks a lot for the readership. You folks are the best.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'd like to thanks to all that made my Super Sons: Troubled Weekend my most read tale yet, and inspired the other tales with our favorite duo, including this one. You, the readers of fanfiction, are invaluable for those who write.**

 **Thanks a lot!**

 **Technically, I don't have any idea for another Super Sons tales (I have two ongoing tales to finish, and a My Hero Academia one on the oven), but I welcome suggestions if you want to see another one with Damian and Jon. The reader is the one in command.**

* * *

One hour before classes start at West-Reeve

"Damian, I will not take a cab to get to the meeting place. This Metro Way Mall is across the city. It's practically in Midvale."

"You are playing a rich character, simpleton. Here, for paying the taxi." Damian was offering Jon a bunch of notes.

"I don't want your - "

"Don't think it as money, it's an investigation tool."

"I don't want your tools, then."

"*tt*"

* * *

The Friday classes went like molasse, Lenore and Jon with their hearts beating faster, thinking about all the possibilities. At another school, Norman was following the same fate. Only Damian looked more calm and collected.

After the final class buzzer, Jon, reluctantly, got in a taxi. Damian discreetly followed Lenore.

After five minutes, seeing she was going home, he realized his mistake. Lenore was the one exposed. The last place she would go to was that mall. Now what? Keep the plan or follow her? In the end, the original plan won. Jon was waiting for him.

Those minutes were more than enough for Damian to miss another piece of the scheme moving on.

* * *

For a kid that grew on a farm, used to live most with what they produce, watching their parents use the barter system often instead of money and, more than that, a kid capable of flying, give all that money to the cab driver was painful.

He walked around the food court, waiting to be contacted. Two minutes. Five. Ten. Who would come to meet him? Lenore? That Norman?

"Kenny!"

Or… Ricky?

"huh… Kent."

"Right, right, Kent. My good friend Tom Kent."

"Jon."

What the school bully was doing there? And doing his mix of hug/neck lock.

"That's what I said, Jon. Good old Jonny. I don't know what's your game, asking to meet here at this end of the world, but no matter. Hand then over."

"Asking to…"

"I got you don't want anyone at West-Reeve to see the trade. People must think the shoes are mine, after all. But you could find tons of other places."

"What?"

"Stop stalling. I gave Lenore the grand you asked for selling me the shoes. Take them off."

"Is everything all right there?"

A mall security man got close.

"Sure. I am just talking with Kenny."

"Ke…" Jon felt the arm around his neck tighten up

"My pal Kenny."

"I think you better leave your friend and move around."

"But there's nothing wrong. Right, Kenny?"

"Huh…"

"Yes" said the guard "What do you have to say, hayseed?"

Hayseed?

"This kid is hurting me, officer."

The employee looked at Ricky.

"Get out."

"That's not over, Kenny." Said Ricky, storming out of the food court.

Jon gave the stilt Damian was on a little kick.

"Good one, Damian. What is going on?"

"Let's move. No one will come and meet you."

"I guess. They will not take a risk for 500 dollars when Lenore scammed Ricky on 1,000."

"And if she did so, she does not intend to return to school Monday. Come with me to the bathroom. I need to take out this disguise."

* * *

Meanwhile, Lenore entered her house, put on her pajamas in front of the window, went to the bathroom and to bed… actually, arranging pillows on the bed and exiting the room by a trapdoor. So, anyone watching through the window, would never guess she leaved the room.

On the other room, her father was waiting.

"Too bad. Your mother and I choose Lenore." He said, mixing the hair dye.

"Yeah, I wished this scheme lasted longer, too." She said, brushing her hair.

"And I wished you asked for my help. But you did well for your first time. Ready? Let's give Lilith Scafio a look"

* * *

"Let's rush. We have a meeting wish Hashtag. I left our uniforms hidden outside."

"Right."

And then Ricky entered the bathroom

"I found you, Kenny. Now I want my shoes and my fist on your face."

"Fist and face. I believe I can help you with that."

"Wayne? What are you doing here? Never mind, shorty, get lost!"

"Damian… don't…"

A bruised Ricky ran away from the bathroom, with a Jon jumping in one feet behind and Damian throwing an expensive sneaker on his back.

"Here, you bought this shoe."

"Damian…"

"Let's get out of here before real security appears."

Once on a secluded place outside the mall, with their uniforms on.

"Yes, Ricky was a bully, but…"

"Focus on our case."

Jon sighed.

"You mentioned a message."

"Yes. Take us up."

"Up where?"

"Just up."

He did so and, sprayed on the roof of the mall, a huge hashtag followed by the pizza and four-leaf clover emojis.

"What's that?"

"Signalman leaved signals as clues for his crimes. His nephew is doing the same."

"Right. Lucky Pizza? Veggie green pizza?"

Robin smirked.

* * *

In less than two minutes, Superboy was landing at the abandoned industrial shed.

"Right. Can you tell me where we are?"

"M&S meat products. Abandoned when the mess of metropolis politics made too expensive to produce here."

They entered it

"People around?"

"Too many dense metals for me to see clearly. How M&S translates to…"

"Marcolini & Shawn." Robin got an unused packaging on a pile and gave to Superboy

"Italo-Irish Meatballs…?

"Burgers and sausages, too. The place still stinks."

They heard an old machine putter and gain life. And Hashtag over another machine. He presed a button.

"Your choice, Superboy. Either come after us, or save your friend from the meat grinder!"

A huge, heavy metal block attached to a chain in the ceiling came full speed cutting the air until passing through a spot two meters away from where Robin and Superboy were.

"Hashtag brown smelly and smiling thing. Huh… two out of three? Rookie's second chance?"

* * *

Saturday Morning, Clark was reading the report the two kids proudly presented.

"The police said his computer was clean, but we're sure he sent the data to AutoCorrect somehere. Also, no trace of the money they stole until reaching us, dad…"

"But that's expected. Eraser kid and all".

"And now you're sure there's just two of them, AutoCorrect and Hashtag, and they don't know a thing about our secret."

"Hashtag is under custody, but AutoCorrect whereabouts are unknown."

"That's a great work, kids."

"Thanks, dad!"

"No, Clark, it is just half-done."

"I am the client and I am pleased. How about a trip to the amusement park as payment?"

"Yeah, dad!"

"That's an absolute frivolous…"

"They have laser tag and climbing walls."

"…"

"And games that test your aim."

"*tt* There's no sense in not accepting a chance to hone one's skills."

* * *

Norman Cobb was guided by a police officer to a small room.

"The judge is still to decide if you will face trial as an adult, but they allowed you to tak to a lawyer, anyway."

Once alone, he looked at the guy in front of him.

"Are you my lawyer? Hashtag…"

The older man opened his briefcase, extracting a helmet that looked as the top of a pencil, complete with a pink…

From somewhere, a girl in black and white uniform appeared. Norman smiled

"Hashtag what take you so long?"

"Do you mean 'thanks for saving my butt'?"

 **END**


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